


Silly Goose

by dollseyes



Category: The Bright Sessions (Podcast)
Genre: goose - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-12
Updated: 2020-02-12
Packaged: 2021-02-27 23:20:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,742
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22673959
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dollseyes/pseuds/dollseyes
Summary: Owen has a fowl day.
Relationships: Joan Bright/Owen Thompson | Agent Green
Comments: 2
Kudos: 14





	Silly Goose

The experiment Owen was supervising was between an animal shapeshifter and a conduit. A controlled environment, all three participants willing and comfortable, just how he preferred, though it had come together slower than Wadsworth would have liked. They had a briefing right before, more to settle him than anything.

In theory, it should be simple enough. The conduit would touch both the shapeshift and the subject, and afterwards the subject would be able to turn into an animal at will, with the effects wearing off after a day or so.

It didn’t work.

The third subject remained distinctly human.

Owen was disappointed, to say the least. This would be another count against him in Wadsworth’s eyes, and he was back to the drawing board on the whole project.

He thanked them for coming and then went back to his office to draw up his final report for Wadsworth.

As he sat in front of his computer, he realized the room had become quite a bit stuffy in the time he had been there and he opened up a window to let in a breeze.

His next event of the day was working with a Tier 5 atypical with a nasty habit of making people disappear against their will. No one else was allowed in the room except him Wadsworth because Wadsworth was unsusceptible. But Owen was convinced that he could convince the atypical to reign in her ability just a little.

Due to his class the night before releasing late, he had been unable to get back to his apartment at his usual time. That, compounded with the stress of the past couple days, and the failure of his experiment, he was unnaturally tired. It wasn’t the first time he had taken a nap in his office, so he didn’t think much when he woke up to the cleaning crew coming in.

Jerry, who generally worked the night shift came in and closed the window without acknowledging Owen, which was strange. They had always been friendly. Owen wondered if he had missed something.

“Jerry,” he said, or tried to say. His voice was a little sore and came out strangely rough.

The man jumped out of his skin.

“How did you get in here, little fella?”

Owen didn’t think much about the ‘little fella’ bit. He knew how tired Jerry could get.

“The door, Jerry.”

“Must have flown in through that window and gotten a little lost, here let me help you.”

Jerry reached his hands out towards Owen and Owen tried to push back from the desk to avoid being touched, but he moved too slow and Jerry picked him up.

Which didn’t make much sense. Because Jerry wasn’t atypical. So he shouldn’t be able to lift Owen, a fully grown man. He also shouldn’t be able to tuck Owen under his arm and carry him down the stairs as Owen squacked indignantly. Because that was the only noise he could make, because his voice was so sore.

Jerry deposited him outside.

“There you go, little buddy. Have a nice night, and don’t fly through any more windows, you silly goose.”

The glass door into the AM swung shut behind Jerry and Owen finally caught a glimpse of himself. Orange feet, orange nose, and a white body.

He had turned into a goose.

Without many options or ideas of what to do or how long the situation would last, he looked around for answers. Wadsworth’s car was still beside his own in the parking lot. If he could get her attention, maybe she could figure it out. As much as he didn’t want to ask for her help, he didn’t know if this was something that would sort itself out on its own.

He sat on the hood of Wadsworth’s car and waited, grateful that she was also taken to staying later than she should after work. When she finally came out she was on the phone, and seemed to be on the tail end of a one-sided conversation, though that was the majority of her conversations.

“And I can see that your car is still in the parking lot, so I know you are just ignoring my calls. Even if you didn’t like the results of your experiment, there’s no need for this over reaction. This isn’t like you to do something this rash. Hopefully you haven’t done anything foolish like speaking with that Tier 5 again without me present. If you aren’t back in the morning with a coffee and an excuse, I’m having you put down as missing, presumed dead.”

She hung up to see Owen standing on her hood. Or well, to see a goose standing on her hood.

“Get down from there you disgusting waterfowl.”

She swatted at him with a file from her briefcase and Owen honked and hopped further away. He boosted himself onto the hood of his own car and tapped at it with his beak.

“Yes, that’s right, put a dent in Green’s car. It’ll serve him right for all the trouble he’s putting me through.”

All the trouble  _ he  _ was putting  _ her _ through? How rich.

He watched her drive off and he couldn’t help but think he was better off figuring this out on his own.

Owen managed to fall asleep on the hood of his car, and woke in the morning to the rising sun.

Now, suffice it to say that Owen did not eat bugs or grass.

But geese eat bugs and grass.

And Owen was a goose.

So perhaps Owen ate some bugs and grass. But no one but him ever needed to know that.

Wadsworth was one of the last to arrive, but no one could tell her that she needed to be in any earlier than she wanted to, and Owen had long since made the early morning hours the most productive of the day, if only to do whatever he could without her breathing down his back.

She cast him a glare as she walked past him and he honked as loudly at her as he could.

It was three days without a change in his status when Wadsworth finally went through on her promise. Owen could tell when Joan showed up to the AM on a day when she wasn’t scheduled for a meeting. Wadsworth came out the front doors with a box in her hands. Owen waddled up to see what the fuss was about.

“Ellie, what was with that cryptic voicemail?”

“Agent Green is missing and presumed dead. I needed his personal belongings cleared out of his office. Since you are his emergency contact, they fall into your hands now. Do what you will with them, I don’t care.”

Joan looked shocked as Ellie handed her the box.

“Oh one more thing,” Ellie said, reaching her hand into her pocket. “His keys. I took the liberty of removing his office keys from the ring, so these should be just his car and apartment. Have a nice day Joan.”

Without further ado, Wadsworth turned on her heel and marched back into the AM.

Joan stared after her, dumbfounded before looking down at the box beneath her arm and the keys in her hand.

With Wadsworth gone, Owen came out from behind the bin he had hid behind and honked at Joan, who looked up in alarm.

“Since when did geese live outside the AM? There’s no water anywhere near here.”

_ It’s because I’m not a goose.  _ Honk.

Joan walked back on the path to the parking lot, but stopped instead to sit on a bench that some of the employees used when they came outside for a smoke. Owen invited himself to sit next to her, which evoked an alarmed response from Joan, but she once she realized he wasn’t going to nip at her, she turned her attention back to the box.

She carded through the pictures and postcards there and Owen knew that a lot of them were ones that patients had sent him, wedding photos, baby photos, and the like. But as she moved through them, they got into older pictures, ones of the two of them from years ago. As Owen stared at a picture of himself and Joan on a kayaking trip years before, he noticed that Joan was shaking softly.

How strange.

She also smelled … salty.

It took his goose brain a moment to realize that she was crying.

Why was she crying?

He hobbled closer and she let him set his head on her shoulder, though she did give him a concerned look.

“What are you? A shapeshifter?”

When he didn’t respond, she asked, “Just a pet? Or a really friendly wild goose?”

_ It’s me Joan. It’s Owen. _

**Honk.**

“God, this is stupid, I’m talking to a goose. Maybe I should go back to grad school, change my dissertation to the little known first stage of grief: delusions.”

She laughed at herself.

“I should go home. I don’t need to do this here of all places.”

Joan stood and finished the walk towards the lot, Owen waddling along behind her.

“Look, I appreciate it, I do, but I’m sure someone is looking for their pet goose.”

Owen doesn’t stop following her. It doesn’t matter if Wadsworth thought he was a nuisance. Joan will help. Joan always helps everyone. Even him.

But she just keeps walking and she’s going to leave him there, so he does something under normal circumstances, he would never consider doing. He tugs on her pants.

“Stop that!”

He didn’t stop. Joan can’t leave. Not again.

“Listen, I take it back, someone probably kicked you out.”

She managed to make it to his car and get it unlocked, but when she opened the back door to put the box inside, Owen hopped in along with it.

“No. Get out. I am not taking you home with me.”

Owen resolutely does not get out. Instead, he maneuvers himself into the passenger seat.

**HONK.**

Joan continued talking, trying to reason with him to get out of the car. Which was a funny enough sight, considering the fact that she thought she was reasoning with an actual goose.

“Fine, you know what, whatever. It’s been a long day and it’s only noon. I’m not going to spend the rest of my day off fighting with a goose.”

Good, because Owen didn’t want to fight with her either. He just didn’t want to be left behind.

She got in the driver’s seat and then looked at him.

“If you’re coming, you’re going to ride in the back. I’m a decent driver, but this is not my car and I don’t want to get pulled over for having livestock riding in the front seat.”

Owen complied, climbing back over the divider to sit with the rest of his things.

When Joan turned her body around to reverse out of the parking spot, she frowned at Owen.

They made it back to Joan’s apartment without incident, and Joan didn’t protest as he trailed after her, even holding the door open a second longer than completely necessary so he has time to waddle through.

He hadn’t been to this apartment before.

She had moved since their breakup to a place that had windows that looked out onto the street below rather than a brick wall covered in gaudy flowers.

There was a park directly in front of her apartment and it had a lake and Owen had to admit it looked rather appealing to his gander brain. Owen the human did not particularly enjoy swimming. Owen the goose wanted to do it all day.

Owen the human won out and instead of swimming in the pond, he ended up in Joan’s bathtub, turning on the faucet himself before Joan appeared to switch them off and scold him.

He needed a bath. He hadn’t bathed in three days and he didn’t know what geese did to keep clean, but it wasn’t working for him. So he turned the faucet back on.

“You must have been a pet if you know how to work all the appliances,” Joan said as she switched it back off again.

It became a game. Owen turned on the tap and filled the tub a little more, until Joan came back in and turned it off. At one point Joan kicked him out of the bathroom entirely, but Owen quickly discovered that he could jam his beak into the crack between the door and wall and slide it back open.

“Fine, you want a bath? Come here.”

Joan’s manhandling was a lot more gentle than Jerry’s. She put him in the tub and scrubbed him down with hypoallergenic soap that she had bought when human Owen used to come over enough to shower there. She dried him down with a fresh towel, which she kept wrapped around him like a burrito to prevent him from getting into more mischief as she cleaned up the water that had spilled out when he had fought her about cleaning underneath his wings too harshly.

As she mopped up the rest of the water, her phone rang.

“Sam? Sorry I didn’t call you earlier, something came up and I-, yeah I’ll still be there tonight, and I-could you grab extra wine? Please?”

As she reached the end of the statement, her voice broke. Sam answered on the other end of the line and Joan finished the call and hung up, sinking down onto the floor of the bathroom. Owen worked his way out of the towel and down off the bed.

He sat down beside her and pressed his head against hers.

“Hi buddy. I know you don’t like it when I cry, but I lost someone today and I just need to be sad for a bit okay?”

He didn’t move for a while and eventually, Joan started stroking along his feathers, smoothing them out.

It felt nice and for a while they just sat there, on her moist bathroom floor.

Eventually, she got up, had a glass of water and went into the kitchen.

He padded after her and she smiled when she heard the wet slap of his feet against the floor.

“I don’t actually know what I have in here for you, buddy.”

His eyes caught on something green and leafy and he pushed past her to pull it out.

“Collared greens? I don’t even know how long those have been in there.”

He honked at her and she sighed.

“Okay, if you say so.”

She removed the rubber band and rinsed them off in her sink, a process which seemed superfluous. Even if they were covered in shrimp, he thought he might still eat it. That was how hungry he was.

Maybe now shrimp wouldn’t be a problem.

She set it in a bowl for him and fixed herself some leftover pasta.

They ate in silence until Joan looked at her watch.

“Shit. I’m going to be late.”

She shovelled the rest of her food in her mouth and then went to find her coat and keys. She was preparing to leave when she noticed Owen standing beside the door, expectantly.

“No. You can’t come. It’s girls night and I don’t need them thinking I’ve gone insane.”

He waddled in front of her path as she went to go towards the door.

“No.”

He honked at her, rather loudly.

“Oh I see. This is blackmail. If I leave you, then you honk loudly enough to wake the neighbors.”

That was actually a rather good plan and Owen wished he had thought of it himself.

“Very well, let’s go.”

Joan ignored the stares on the bus as she rode it with a goose on her lap. Owen did his best not to make any additional trouble for her. She told the driver he was trained, and Owen didn’t want to walk wherever they were going. Joan’s legs were, for once, much longer than his, and it made it hard to keep up. Even walking to the bus stop, Joan had carried him under her arm and his webbed feet dangled loose in the air beneath him.

“At least you’re well behaved now,” Joan said softly into the feathers of his neck. “And you smell...nice.”

Owen rested his head on her shoulder and stared at the little boy in the seat behind them, who was staring at them with wide eyes.

Owen had almost fallen asleep when Joan stood up and exited the bus.

“Can you walk on your own? Because you are heavy and my arms are tired.”

He wiggled his legs until she set him on the ground and then he set off after her. It was tiring, and he couldn’t focus on where they were. Instead, he just had to keep his eyes fixed on the back of Joan’s knees as he walked directly behind her.

“You know, this whole process might be easier if you would just fly.”

Owen knew there was no way that was happening. He had attempted it, a few times, when he was lingering outside the AM.

Instead, he just followed along behind her.

They arrived and Joan picked him back up to walk up the steps when it looked like he was struggling.

She knocked and the door swung open to reveal Samantha Barnes, hair in a messy bun and wine glass in hand.

“You made it! And you...brought a goose?”

Joan started and stopped her explanation a few times before settling on: “It’s been a long day.”

Sam gave her an empathetic look and let her in.

“Chloe picked the wine tonight, and we got extra, just like you wanted. Does your… friend need anything?”

Owen swung his feet in response.

“No, I think he just wants me to put him down.”

“Joan!” Chloe appeared from the living room, also in comfortable clothing. “Where did you get a goose?”

“He followed me home from the AM.”

“Why were you at the -Oh, Joan, I’m so sorry. I’ll pour you some wine.”

Sam turned from Chloe back to Joan in confusion.

“Joan, what is she talking about?”

“I-Agent Green-Owen, he… an experiment went wrong and -”

Owen didn’t know what to do. He couldn’t imagine that honking at her would help the situation, so he just followed after the three of them into the living room. He managed to get himself onto the couch and walked over Sam so that he could sit next to Joan. She absentmindedly stroked his feathers as she recounted what Wadsworth had told her that morning.

Once she had settled, Sam spoke again.

“I really hate to pry but your ex is missing and you were so distraught you got a goose?”

Joan laughed and looked down at him.

“I guess. I don’t know. Maybe, I thought, Chloe can you-?”

The same thought had come to Owen as soon as he saw the mind reader.

“I’ve already tried, and no, my power does not work on domesticated geese. Sorry Joan.”

“It’s fine.” 

“Why did Wadsworth call you?” Sam asked softly.

“Owen, he left me as his emergency contact.”

Sam bit her lip, clearly wanting to ask a follow up question.

“And-and how did that make you feel?”

Joan laughed a sad and bitter laugh, wiping her eyes. “Are you my therapist now?”

“No, but we’re your friends,” Chloe pressed. “And we care about you and you obviously cared about him.”

“I-I knew that he still felt that way, but I always assumed that he would want Wadsworth to call his parents--oh god, his parents. I have to call them.”

Joan attempted to stand, jostling Owen from her lap.

“Not right now, you don’t,” Chloe said, pressing her back onto the couch.

“So you know how he felt, but how did you feel?”

“I - I don’t know. I used to think that we were meant for each other and then the whole thing with Mark made me think that I could never trust him again, but even though...even though I didn’t trust him anymore, I didn’t stop loving him. I thought maybe one day we’d - but now he’s gone and we’ll never-”

She cut off and both Sam and Chloe leaned in and hugged her, squishing Owen beneath them.

For his part, Owen was...somewhat shocked.

_ Joan still loved him. _

_ Joan still loved him. _

_ Joan still loved him. _

_ Joan still loved him and he was still a fucking goose. _

He climbed out of her lap and onto the floor. Startled, Joan sat up and looked at him. He looked back at her.

**HONK.**

_ I’m right here. _

Joan sighed.

“Not right now, okay?”

**HONK. HONK** .   
_ I’m right here and I still love you. _

“Hush,” Sam said.

**HONK HONK HONK**

_ I’m right here and I still love you and I’m sorry.  _

That fiasco got Owen kicked out of the room, which was not the ideal outcome. He waited there, curled up against the closed door until Chloe came out and nearly tripped over him.

“Oh, you’re still here.”

She squatted down and stroked him.

“I bet you were just trying to help, weren’t you?”

That had been the goal, though even at the time he knew his methods weren’t the best. But he just had so many things he needed to say and he couldn’t say any of them. And he was so frustrated.

Joan came out, eyes red and tired.

“Come on, goose. It’s time to go home.”

She didn’t pick him up at all on the way back to the bus, nor did she let him sit on her lap. Instead he sat on the floor of the bus. It was gross and he would need to bathe again, but he didn’t want to bother Joan anymore.

She hardly waited for him as she entered her apartment, and the door hit him a little on the way in.

Rather than head directly to bed as he expected, she headed to her kitchen and extracted a bottle of scotch from the top shelf.

He honked at her as she poured herself a glass.

“Shh. It’s fine.”

It clearly was not fine. She drank the glass staring at the box of his possessions that she had dumped on the counter. For the first glass, she stared at the pictures. The second, she played with the tassels on the throw he kept on the back of his chair for days when his legs just wouldn’t warm up like they were supposed to. 

After the third, she picked up his keys. 

He watched with alarm as she stumbled towards the door and let herself out. He followed after, honking, trying to pull at her, direct her back into her apartment.

“No, stop it.”

**HONK**

_ Joan. _

She was headed for his car, parked behind her building.

He put himself in between her and the door.

“Move I-” she rubbed her eyes. “No, you’re right, I shouldn’t drive.”

Thinking he had won, he shepherded her back towards the apartment door, but she kept walking. He didn’t know where she was going, nor did he think she knew where she was going, but he couldn’t let her walk off in this state.

Once in a while, he tried pulling at her sweater or pants legs to steer her off this inane course, but she wouldn’t be dissuaded, kept palming the keys, passing them back and forth precariously between her hands.

Soon the neighborhood became familiar. Because it was the one he had lived in for the past ten years. Joan was headed towards his apartment.

They were across the street from it when Joan dropped the keys. Owen watched as they fell into the street. He watched Joan lean over to get them. He could not watch as a car raced down the road. Instead he rushed forward, wings spread and gave her the hardest tug on the back of her sweater that he could manage. It sent her tipping back, out of harm’s way, but directly onto Owen. His open wing caught on the edge of the curb and he heard something pop as her full weight fell on him.

Joan sat up slowly and looked down at him in horror.

“Oh, goose, I-”

He sat up and honked, in what he hoped was a reassuring way. He didn’t need her worried about both versions of him.

“Your wing-”

He flapped his left wing and pain shot through his entire body.

“Oh, no, we have to - we have to go inside.”

She actually looked before picking up the keys this time and then she leaned over and scooped him up as well, holding him too tightly to her chest.

Her hands fumbled with the keys and locks into his apartment until she finally got them both in.

“I-I know Owen has bandages around here somewhere-”

He followed her to the medicine cabinet, and watched her fumble with a roll of gauze before she wrapped it loosely around his wing, a likely ineffective method, but Owen knew that Joan had never claimed to have any actual medical experience, let alone veterinary experience.

The ordeal seemed to tire her out and she went into the bedroom and stared at his dresser. He still had photos of the two of them sitting there. He knew that it had been years and he should have taken them down by now, but he didn’t have the photos with which to replace them nor the heart to do it. Some part of him still liked being able to see Joan’s face every morning when he woke up.

Joan was crying again. She seemed to be doing that a lot.

Owen hoped she didn’t normally cry this much. Joan had always been so strong, and to see her like this, broke him.

He waddled into his closet and poked around in the bottom, to the box of things that he had stowed away after she had left. He pulled out her favorite sweatshirt of his, a faded Grand Canyon sweatshirt. The cuffs were worn and faded.

He dragged it out and set it at her feet. She looked down at, blinking slowly.

“Oh.”

_ Oh _ .

Joan lifted it up from the ground and hugged it to her chest. She swayed back and forth, a self-soothing habit she had picked up long before they had known each other. Then, seeming to make a decision, she stripped out of her clothing, struggling a bit with her bra, only to pull the sweatshirt on over her head. Owen had bought a large so that it was long enough to cover his whole torso. That meant that it dwarfed Joan’s small frame.

She pulled on a pair of his soft cotton boxers and then lifted him onto the bed before crawling under the covers herself. 

Before she fell asleep, Owen plucked the glasses from her face and set them on the nightstand.

Joan woke up to freckles and red hair in a place that was both familiar and foreign. Owen’s apartment.

_ Owen. _

He was there, asleep in bed across from her. She blinked, certain he would disappear, but he didn’t. He was wearing soiled work clothes and he still had his glasses on. She sat up fully and she stared down at his peaceful face.

“Owen.”

His eyes opened sleepily and he blinked up at her.

“ _ Owen _ ,” she repeated and then couldn’t help but slide her hand beneath his head and swing her leg over his waist and kiss him. She kissed him because yesterday she realized she might have already kissed him for the last time and that thought had  _ broken  _ her. Joan didn’t want to ever stop kissing him.

“Joan,” he said against her lips, his voice sounding pained.

She pulled back in alarm.

“My arm,” he said.

“Your arm…”

Her eyes caught on the white gauze poorly wrapped around his left shoulder. The shoulder looked dislocated.

“It was you. The whole time it was you.”

“Yeah,” he looked up at her as though he was certain she was going to be mad.

“You were trying to tell me the whole time.”

“It was a little hard to get the information across,” he said, an apologetic smile on his face. But Joan didn’t want any more apologies. Not right now. There would be time. They had  _ time. _

All Joan wanted to do was kiss the love of her life until neither of them could breathe _. _

“You silly goose.”

**Author's Note:**

> They get Owen medical help after this. And they live happily ever after.


End file.
